Fiery Tales: Undone Part 33

"Don't weep." He kissed each one that slipped down her cheeks. "I never want to make you cry. Everything will be all right. I'll do whatever it takes to make it so." He kissed her again.

She had no idea how she managed it, but she pulled away. "Please, Simon, we cannot-" Words failed her. Her hands were on his strong arms. His body trembled too. She looked around, searching for strength.

He turned her face, forcing her to look into his eyes. They weren't guarded but open, his heart reflecting therein. "You're right. This is not the place for this. Come with me. I know an inn outside of Paris."

She shook her head. Another large tear slipped down her cheek.

"To talk!" he quickly added. "There's much to say that has not been said. Give me the chance to make matters right between us." His blue eyes were soft and pleading.

"I cannot come with you, Simon." She took in a ragged breath. "You must go."

"Go? No, I cannot." He pulled her back into his arms, and buried his face in her hair. "I love you. Angelica, I love you..."

She choked on a sob before she swallowed hard, unable to restrain the tears that poured from her eyes. How cruel those words sounded in her ears now-those three words she'd longed to hear from him for so long. He was offering them freely-when she was unable to cherish them.

"It's too late, Simon." She was barely capable of speaking as she tottered under the weight of her pain. "I'm...married."

He staggered back. "What...?" It was the barest whisper. In his eyes was the desperate hope that he'd heard incorrectly.

With her heart in her throat, she repeated, "I'm married." She couldn't stand his look of devastation. Devastation she shared. He'd had plenty of chances to tell her this before! Why did he have to do this to her now? Her heart fragmented a little more with every moment she lingered in his presence. "I must go." She tried to bolt, but he grabbed her arm and pulled her to him.

"To whom!"

His look gave her pause. It was dark with the promise of violence. The last thing she wanted was for Simon to go after Robert.

"I'm married, Simon. What difference does it make who my husband is? It is done. You must...go on with your life." Speechless, he stared at her with horrified disbelief. She easily pulled her arm out of his slackening grasp. "I wish you happiness in your life and a woman worthy enough to share it with you." Vision blurred by tears, she rushed from the room, not stopping to acknowledge Jules or Armand, desperate to flee while she still possessed the ability to do so. Leaving Simon for a second, and final, time was inexpressible torture.

Simon placed his hands on his hips, dragging his breaths up and down his throat, a cold, almost numbing sensation flooding his body.

Jules and Armand rushed in.

"Simon?" Jules inquired.

The word "married" had stabbed through him, slicing cleanly through the heart. The pain was unmercifully keen. Grabbing a nearby chair, he slammed it against the mirror. The force of the impact shattered it, sending shards of gla.s.s spraying out.

"Dieu!" Armand exclaimed.

Simon spun around to face his friends. "She's married." He forced the words out from between clenched teeth.

"Merde. I'm so sorry," Jules said. "Come, we must leave here. There are too many n.o.bles about, and we don't know who is friend or foe. Armand, go outside. See if Robert is here. If not, we'll go to Nevelon straightaway. If Angelica has married an Aristo, then surely Robert would know who this man is. He'll know more about the situation."

Armand gave a nod and ran out.

A silence fell upon the room. Simon was lost in his thoughts, fighting to think clearly through the misery and staggering sense of loss, unable to just walk away. To give her up.

"Jules," he finally spoke up. "I will learn this man's name, and I will get her back. This I swear. Whoever he is, his days with her are numbered."

Armand burst into the room. "Robert is here!" he announced with an urgent whisper. "He'll meet us at the back of the building. He's most anxious to talk to you, Simon."

Within minutes, the three men stood behind the Palais-Royal, shrouded by the night. Rain began to fall. Robert approached on horseback, alone. He stopped before them, not attempting to climb down.

"Simon, where have you been? Fouquet has been to my home looking for you. Until we know exactly what he wants from you, you must stay away from him."

"He can go to h.e.l.l," Simon growled.

"Be that as it may, we must talk. Come to Nevelon. Make certain no one follows you. Use the cellar entrance. I'll see that your usual room is ready, along with rooms for Jules and Armand. Early on the morrow, we'll talk."

Simon nodded. "There is much that I must discuss with you."

The next morning, Simon sat down to break fast with Robert, his eyes raw, his head aching. When he'd entered through the cellar last eve, he'd taken as much wine as he could carry up to his room. And drank it all.

At times, during the long hours of the night, he could swear he smelled her fragrance, proving that either he was going mad or that the copious amounts of wine he'd consumed had taunting powers never before realized.

He slept less than an hour before a somber-faced servant woke him to join the marquis. It had been a h.e.l.lish night as images of Angelica in another man's arms tortured him.

Their kiss last eve tormented him as well. He'd thought about it all night long, the soft feel of her mouth. And how she'd returned his kiss. She'd welcomed his touch, his embrace. The same intense emotions between them were still there. Of this he was certain. She did still love him. She'd married simply out of desperation. No, all was not lost. There was hope. As long as there was love, there was hope. He would hold on to that thought.

He'd heard her say she would return for another performance in a fortnight. If Robert was unable to help him with information about Angelica and her new husband, then he would return to the theater and learn all that he could between now and then. Somehow, he would undo this mess. He wouldn't relent until she was his. First, he had to get her to admit her love for him-win her trust and belief in him again.

Then he would deal with the issue of her husband.

"You look terrible," Robert said.

"Thank you," he retorted dryly, feeling irritable.

"There are matters to discuss, Simon, but first I wish to tell you some good news."

"Oh? I could definitely use some good news."

A large grin appeared on Robert's face. "I have married, and I am most anxious for you to meet her."

Simon's brows shot up. "Married?" Merde. Was everyone running to the altar suddenly? He offered what he hoped was a semblance of a pleasant smile. "Congratulations." Despite his own misery, he was truly happy to learn that Robert, a renowned bachelor, a man who for decades had enjoyed the s.e.xual favors of countless beauties, had finally found one he wanted to marry. And had. Simon forced back the envy. "I look forward to meeting this extraordinary woman who has managed to get you to the altar when so many others failed."

Robert continued to smile. "She's a rare beauty. I've asked her to join us. But first, I must tell you that Louis has asked to see Fouquet's accounting ledgers and has handed them over to Jean-Baptiste Colbert for review. You will remember that Colbert worked under Mazarin. He has great skill with accounts and knows of Fouquet's excessive expenditures and outrageous profits."

"Really?" He couldn't have cared less. He wanted to discuss Angelica.

"Since Mazarin's death, I think Louis has finally seen that Fouquet is a threat to his throne. With all his arrogance, Fouquet doesn't see that he's doomed. He rea.s.sures himself, no doubt, by the fact that he has more n.o.bles on his side than the young king. But Louis is not a fool. Change is coming, and with our king's new att.i.tude, I believe he will finally recognize your achievements for France, peacetime or not. In the meantime, however, you must be cautious. Fouquet is up to something."

Simon would see what his spies had to say about Fouquet's plans. Until he knew more, he was resourceful enough to avoid him. Right now, he couldn't think about Fouquet, delivering the silver from La Estella Blanco to the king, or even Angelica's stepfather. His priority was Angelica.

"There is something I should tell you about my wife before she arrives," Robert said.

"Oh?"

"She is Fouquet's stepdaughter."

"What?"

"I know. It is a shock. But I a.s.sure you, there is no affection in her heart for the man, and he is a sensitive subject for her. When he came here looking for you, his presence quite upset her-"

Just then, Jules and Armand entered the room. Robert ended his conversation and invited them to join the meal.

Fouquet's stepdaughter? Who knew he had one? Fouquet's present wife, Marie-Madeleine, had been only fifteen when Fouquet had married her ten years ago. Fouquet was twenty-one years her senior. Robert's wife must be the child of Fouquet's first wife. Yet, Simon knew nothing about her except that she'd died years before Fouquet became Superintendent of Finance.

A servant entered and whispered in Robert's ear. He grinned and nodded.

"Gentlemen, I have been advised that my wife will be here shortly. She apologizes for her delay this morning."

Jules and Armand were instantly on their feet, congratulating him on his marriage.

Despite his shock over the news about Robert's wife, Simon suppressed a smile. Apparently, not even a leg injury of this magnitude could keep Robert from his husbandly duties. The poor woman was no doubt exhausted by his infamous stamina.

Simon was looking forward to meeting the new Marquise de Nevelon.

Chapter Twenty-Six.

As Angelica approached the dining room, m.u.f.fled male voices drifted to her. She'd tarried in her room long enough, hoping that by now all telling signs of her night of tears were no longer apparent.

She couldn't believe Simon had found her last night.

She couldn't forget his words, his kiss, or the fact that they had come far too late.

She could never be with him. Not now. She was married, and though it was a marriage that had never been consummated, she'd nonetheless made a commitment. She could never betray Robert in any way. His kindness and love would not be met with abandonment on her part. Last night, she'd raged, she'd wept, and now she was simply numb.

Stopping at the door, Angelica drew in a breath and let it out slowly.

Being with company was the last thing she wanted, yet Robert was eager for her to meet the men within, stating, with affection in his voice, that he'd taken one of these men under his wing when he was just a boy and practically raised him, educated him. It was important to Robert for her to attend the morning meal, and therefore she had to make an effort to play the role of the cordial hostess. This was a small sacrifice to make for dear Robert.

A round of male laughter erupted just as she opened the door.

"Ah, there you are, my darling." Robert struggled but managed to stand. She offered him a smile.

Her gaze fell upon Simon.

Her heart jumped, lodging in her throat.

Simon turned to her. The smile on his beautiful mouth dissolved the moment their gazes locked. His blue eyes turned from shock to horror.

Dear...G.o.d...

She'd spent the night trying to come to terms with the fact that he loved her and she would never see him again.

Now he was here. He knew Robert. Her pulse doubled.

She was trapped within those familiar blue eyes. Eyes that had often gazed at her with tenderness or pa.s.sion now stared at her with astonishment, heart-shattered. Last eve, that very look had torn her heart asunder.

She couldn't stand to have him stare at her that way. Not again.

"Angelica." Robert's voice snapped her out of her thoughts. "Darling, I asked you if you are all right." Robert's eyes were full of concern.

She clasped her hands tightly and forced a smile. "I'm fine."

She could feel Simon's gaze on her. She fought back the compulsion to run to him, throw her arms around him, never to let go again.

Instead, she forced her shaky limbs forward and approached her husband's three guests, as any lady of the chateau would. Her mind spun, unsure what to do now. The room was far too warm. The walls were closing in on her. What would Simon do now that he knew the ident.i.ty of her husband? Would he tell Robert the truth? What would be the point? What good would it do to inform Robert that the man she loved was the very man seated at his table?

"Gentlemen, I'd like to introduce to you my wife..." Robert's tone was full of pride, his voice drifting in and out of her mind as she tried to sort through her whirling thoughts, to decide how best to handle the situation at hand. Jules approached her first. He took her hand. Bowing before her, he placed a light kiss to it.

"Enchante." Jules's gaze held hers for a moment. He was clearly dumbfounded but thankfully hadn't given her away.

Armand did the same.

"Darling, this is Simon Boulenger, the man I was telling you about. He's the captain of a fleet of privateer s.h.i.+ps for France. Very successful. I, of course, taught him everything he knows." Robert chuckled.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Simon rise and walk toward her. Unable to meet his gaze, afraid of what it would do to either one of them if they looked into each other's eyes, she stared at his perfect left ear. She forced herself not to think about how many times she'd kissed that ear, focusing instead on keeping her pounding heart from puncturing through her chest.

He stopped before her. His familiar scent surrounded her, devastating her.

He took her hand, a hand she had neglected to offer. Was his hand trembling as well? Or was it only hers? He stiffly bowed and murmured an appropriate greeting.

At the touch of his lips to her knuckle, her pulse surged. Briefly, she closed her eyes. Locking her knees, she tried to steady herself on her wobbly legs.

He released her hand immediately, not dallying a moment longer than was necessary-a painful reminder of the reality of the situation. A new dimension to her pain.

She wasn't his to touch.

Simon stepped away from her.

"Angelica, you look quite pale. Are you certain you are all right?" Robert asked.

Somehow, she found her voice. "I'm just a little tired after last night's performance, Robert."

Robert shook his head in dismay. "I took you to the Palais-Royale thinking you would find it enjoyable. I should have antic.i.p.ated Louis's roving eye would focus on you." Robert turned to the men in the room and explained, "The king learned that my wife can sing. She has quite an exceptional voice, in fact. I never expected him to insist that my wife return to perform in one of Moliere's comedies for him. This is my fault." Robert sat down slowly, wincing, looking very much vexed at himself. "Simon, my leg is quite stiff today. Will you kindly escort my wife back to her chambers so that she may rest?"

"No!" she exclaimed. "I mean to say...I'm quite capable of returning to my chambers alone. Do not put Monsieur Boulenger to the task unnecessarily." She smiled for her husband, though she could scarcely breathe.

"Nonsense. He does not mind. Do you, Simon?"

Simon, beset by grief, faced the greatest challenge in his life as he attempted to remain composed before Robert.